Dear God,

Vaccumming can be a real depressant. With a resolve to finally clean up and not wade through the dog hair on the stairs, I sadly began the task of sucking Luthor’s dog hairs into oblivion. As I plugged it in, there were surges of hesitation and regret. I cried as I vacuumed. Each strand disappearing was like a fibre of my heart going with it. Luthor was continuing to vanish. Would people think me overly eccentric if I collected what remaining hair I could find and keep it in a special place? Some people keep locks of their kid’s hair. Me, I just keep handfuls of dog hair. I suppose when Sears comes to maintain my washer and dryer, I’ll have a fresh supply of dog hair stuck in all the nooks and crannies. I’m not expressing myself the way I’d hoped to. I wanted to be humourous but it’s still so painful. Still hurts I guess. The pen knows! It hurt to watch the hair disappear. To just suck it back so quickly and impersonally seemed so callous. I kept saying “goodbye puppy”. Yes, tears are flowing. I guess there’s still a few painful times ahead. But a very kind thing came to my attention today. In memory of Luthor, our vets made a donation in his name to the Pet Trust fund at Ontario Vet College in Guelph. Yes, I burst into yet more tears. I grabbed my rottie puppy and held tightly to it. I can still faintly smell my booboo on it. It’s fading, though, like everything else.

Oh Father, I just can’t believe he’s gone! I just can’t! It hurts so much! Is he with you? Is he alive somewhere? Where is he? Where is my baby? Oh God, please don’t let love die! I just can’t believe that a life that can love so unconditionally, courageously and affectionately could just die. Love like dogs are capable of just can’t fade into nothing, can it? He used to wrap his paws around my shoulder. He could recognize expressions of affection between Grant and me and copy it. How can he be nothing special, just a dog, like so many say? How can nothing love with a love closer to God than most humans can show? Luthor was wonderful. He was my outlet for giving and receiving lavishing affection. We had a real connection and could understand each other with only a look. Does it sound stupid to call him my child? He was, I raised him, nurtured him, trained him. I guess I don’t have to convince you of any of this, I’m only really trying to convince myself I guess.

Oh, this has opened a fresh wave of grief. Oh Luthor, I wish I could hold you. I wish I could give you a big squooshy hug and roll your flabs of jowly loose face fur in my hands. Oh Puppy, I miss you so badly!! Oh puppy, I just never anticipated anguish like this. God, I wish there were a way to talk to him. I can understand why some would seek a medium to contact a loved one. You ache for just a moment of contact, to know they still exist, an affirmation of your faith. You just need to hear them and feel their presence. It hurts so bad. Help me! Please help me! I don’t know how to get through this! I feel so guilty. I feel like I killed him, like the way it was draining my spirit was the reason he was taken. And I should have stayed with him. He deserved that. Luthor, can you forgive me for being so weak? Father, can you? Somebody, please, help me!

July 1997